


in our bedroom, after the war

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Coming of Age, F/M, Hemophilia, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, because Ephraim doesn’t pick fights he won't win, bed sharing, suicidal ideation (briefly)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 03:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: Lyon meets Ephraim for the first time when he is nine years old. He has no idea this event has just changed his whole life and it's going to keep changing, whether he likes it or not.A modern AU told in parts.





	1. Magvel

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write an angsty modern AU where Lyon is stuck in his room because he's sick and Ephraim climbs through his window and tells him about the world he's not able to be a part of. Then I wrote a lot of when they were kids. And then when they were teenagers. And then young adults. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t until I had already mapped out most of this fic that I realized the beginning part of them being kids kind of reminded me of Bridge to Terabithia, so unintentional homage I guess. Honestly, I haven't read that book in maybe 20 years oml I'm surprised I even remembered it.

* * *

 

 

Lyon meets Ephraim for the first time when he is nine years old.

He watches from his favorite window, the one in his room he normally watches birds from, as the moving truck parks in front of the house across the street. It’s not a particularly spectacular house. Same two-story, same picket fence as his, maybe a fresher coat of bland-colored paint because of being recently sold. Same generic yard and generic porch, only theirs doesn’t have a bench outside yet.

Same.

But to Lyon it looks daunting, as he watches the movers shout at each other while they coordinate unloading things. Lots of things. So many things. He watches, clutching one of the pillows from his bed in his arms, as they bring in furniture, appliances, boxes, toys—

_Toys?_

“Looks like someone finally bought the house across the street,” his dad, Vigarde, says from behind him. The hand resting on Lyon’s bony shoulder easily spans it and is equally comforting in its weight, grounding him as beds come out of the truck and go into the house next.

Lyon counts them. _O_ _ne, two, three._ Three beds.

A family, then.

“Maybe a nice family with kids for you to play with, hm?”

Lyon says nothing.

He doesn’t like new people, doesn’t like new things. The kids at his new school are mean to him for absolutely no reason other than how terribly shy he is and he’d rather the new next-door neighbors be old and quiet and have cats instead. Mean kids living across the street means he won't be able to avoid them to go outside and pet the neighborhood cats or watch birds from his front porch and he doesn’t want to do those things if mean kids are going to bug him.

He’d like to be able to do the few outside activities he enjoys in peace.

“What if they’re bad people?” He finally asks, clutching onto the pillow in his arms tighter as his voice wobbles. “Dad, what if they’re _mean_ people?”

His dad laughs, but Lyon is worried. It only escalates when a blue SUV pulls into the driveway and two tiny, teal-haired blurs exit. One has short hair and is jumping up and down as they tug the driver by the hand to the house, the other with longer hair trailing serenely behind them.

“Son, who could ever be mean to you?”

If only his dad understood.

 

* * *

 

  
A few days later a man brings his son and daughter to their door.

Lyon peeks from behind his father at the teal-haired trio, clinging to his father’s shirt as Fado introduces himself to them both with a firm handshake that nearly crushes his hand.

“I’m Ephraim. And this is my sister, Eirika,” the boy proudly announces while Eirika smiles sweetly. There’s no waver in his voice. He's proud in that way the most obnoxious kids in his class proclaim everything that remotely crosses their minds, whether it's correct or not, whether it’s _nice_ or not.

Lyon doesn’t like him.

But he might like the girl, she seems okay.

As Fado and his father talk, Lyon slowly moves from behind him to look at Eirika.

Big blue eyes and long lashes, her long hair is in a ponytail at the top of her head not quite the same blue as Fado’s or Ephraim’s. She still has the chubby cheeks Lyon’s already begun to shed and is missing one of her bottom teeth, probably lost right before the move. She’s dressed nicely but there's dirt on her stockings, a contrast to her brother who seems to be covered head to toe in a fine layer of dirt.

“Kids will be kids,” Fado replies to his dad, as they both share a laugh.

He's just about to finally ask Eirika something when she disappears from view, replaced by the teal blue of Ephraim’s hair directly in front of him.

“Hey, wanna see something cool?” Ephraim asks, grabbing his wrist with a grubby hand and leading him outside before he can answer. “It’s _really_ cool.”

Lyon stumbles as the younger boy tugs him along. He’s surprisingly strong for his age, despite being a good six inches shorter.

“And it’s a secret. So don’t tell anyone except Eirika, okay?”

“Ok,” Lyon replies even though it’s probably a terrible idea. Ephraim leads him across the street to his backyard. Unlatching the gate, he continues tugging him into the overgrown grass and weeds of his backyard. It's still not mowed down yet even though Lyon saw a lawnmower come out of the moving truck at one point.

They reach a corner of the backyard fence. Ephraim stops to grab a sturdy stick taller than he is hidden nearby and moves aside a slat of wood. Lyon spots a hole in the chain-link fence behind it and looks back at Ephraim, who is grinning ear to ear.

“Close your eyes,” he tells him excitedly. "We're going on an adventure."

Lyon rolls his in reply instead.

“I can’t walk. If I close my eyes I can’t walk.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” Ephraim’s grip on his wrist tightens, as he tugs Lyon through the opening.

“How far is it?” He asks, squinting his eyes shut.

To Ephraim's credit, he's okay at leading him. Or at the very least doesn't immediately lead Lyon into something he can trip over like a branch or a rock as a cruel joke like he originally expected might happen. Lyon only peeks enough to not trip over his feet, as they crunch over dead leaves, but nothing becomes apparent to where he’s being led. Suddenly he isn’t so sure about this. He didn’t tell his father he was going out and Ephraim is only seven, should he really be playing this far away from adults?

“Not too far.”

They continue walking for some time, the moments nervewracking as Lyon keeps his head down, eyes only barely open. They finally stop and Lyon nearly stumbles over Ephraim as he abruptly lets go of him. He smells dirt and wet leaves, hears something like running water in the distance.

“Ok, you can open your eyes.”

Lyon is not prepared for what greets him.

The other boy has somehow led him to a wilderness he had no idea about on the other side of their street, behind the houses. Multicolor leaves fall from the gnarled branches of the trees, as thick moss grows on their trunks in patches. A small creek is nearby with granite rocks around it, too shallow to swim in but if the depth it’s created is any indication, it’s only because of the season. Birds chirp in the trees as the afternoon sunlight filters through, casting the whole area in warm hues as Ephraim stands there with his dirty shirt and too-tall walking stick like he’s always belonged in the wild, hidden between the trees and in the woods despite his bright colored hair standing out.

Its... _magical._

“This can be our kingdom that no one else knows about,” Ephraim proudly declares. “We could be kings. Thieves. Anything we want here!”

“Anything?”

“Mmmhm, anything,” he replies, jabbing the air in front of him with his stick. “But only if we don’t tell anyone about it.” Lyon narrowly dodges the stick poking him in the side, which only further fuels the grin on Ephraim’s face.

“Okay, okay. I won’t!”

_“Swear.”_

“I swear.”

Ephraim shakes his head, teal hair rustling like leaves in the wind. His cheshire grin doesn’t falter. “That's not a swear. C’mere. I’ll show you how Eirika and I do it.”

Lyon shuffles closer, still eying the stick in Ephraim’s hand as he extends his other, his small chubby fist closed except for his pinkie out.

“Pinkie swear, uh— _on all your toys!”_

“Ok.”

Lyon wraps his pinkie around the younger boy’s. This close he can see Ephraim barely comes up to his chin, a mop of tangled teal hair on the top of his head. He has to really look up when he speaks to Lyon.

“Nuh-uh, you gotta say it,” he replies, still smiling but his eyes are far too serious for a seven-year-old. “Swear.”

“I swear on all my toys,” Lyon announces, as though he’s pledging fealty. As though a crowd is present instead of one overzealous boy. “I won’t tell anyone—”

“Except Eirika—”

“—except Eirika—”

“Eirika and I don’t have _any_ secrets,” Ephraim interjects and Lyon rolls his eyes for the second time that day.

“Okay, except your sister. There.”

This seems to satisfy Ephraim, who lets go of his pinkie and drops his hand to his side. He hands Lyon the stick in his hand suddenly, as he begins to climb one of the trees with thicker branches, each hand grasping at its trunk until his foot is snugly wedged each time and he makes his way up.

_Who is this feral child?_

“What are you—” Lyon calls, but Ephraim is already a good ten feet off the ground. Only his feet visible in their sneakers with blue lights that flash only so often. “You could fall!”

“So?”

“Won’t it hurt?"

“Only sometimes,” Ephraim scoffs in reply. The branches rustle and Lyon holds his breath. “Besides there’s a bird nest up here. Wanna look?”

Lyon gulps.

“I don’t think two people could fit.”

Suddenly all the scenarios of him falling, of Ephraim falling, of them getting hurt, of them breaking all their bones, of them dying alone in the not-quite wilderness because no one knows where they are assault his mind. They could die and no one would come _because they swore to never tell anyone where they were they could and he can’t breathe oh god he can’t breathe—_

By the time he’s opened his eyes and almost breathing correctly, Ephraim has already clambered back down from the tree and is looking at him worriedly. His blue eyes are wide and his beloved stick discarded on the ground.

“What was that?”

“My dad says they’re panic attacks,” he replies between gulps of air. Even he doesn’t really understand the meaning just the name so he can tell his dad when he’s having one.

Ephraim is quiet for a handful of moments, frowning hard enough Lyon can see the creases in his forehead. One might even say he looks contemplative.

“You’re not like other people, are you?” He finally asks, and Lyon looks at the ground. Scuffs it with a shoe.

“I guess not. People seem to not like me.”

“Why?” Ephraim asks, looking up at him with guileless eyes. “I think you’re cool, Lyon. Super cool even! Haha Lyon— like a _lion_ , rawr!” He bares his teeth and pretends to swipe at him. “That’s so cool.”

“Alright, alright,” Lyon mumbles. He spends a moment collecting his breath as Ephraim leads him to some flat granite rocks near the creek where they can sit. He’s thankful for not having to sit on the ground because he didn’t prepare for an adventure today. If he had known, he wouldn't have worn light-colored clothing, and certainly not khakis and his favorite Lilac colored sweater that almost matches his hair people always make fun of— _but it’s so comfy_ —so he tends to only wear it at home now.

Lyon stares at the sky as Ephraim watches him from the corner of his eye. It’s not very subtle but he doesn’t know what to say to the other boy so he just lets him.

“Hey Eph,” he finally says, quietly.  “You know, a kingdom needs a name.”

“Um, uh—yeah it does, doesn’t it?” Ephraim replies, scratching his head before turning to Lyon and meeting him full on with his gaze. “What do you think?”

“You found it, you get to name it. Pretty sure that's why people go find places, so they can name them after whatever they want.”

“Hmm, you're right...” the younger boy trails off. “Mus—no, Marv— wait, _Magvel._ Yeah, its Magvel, okay?”

“Our mighty kingdom of Magvel!”

He punches the air with a tiny fist and Lyon can’t help but grin in reply. Ephraim’s enthusiasm he originally thought was annoying is actually pretty endearing once he realized that’s _just how Ephraim is._ Everything is Grand, and everything is Important to him, unless it's not. Then it doens't exist and—

“What do you think, Prince Lyon?” He asks quieter, eyes hopeful. Expectant.

Lyon’s not sure anyone has ever looked like that at him like that other than his dad. Like he was also Important.

“I like it.”

“Then that’s its name, _Magvel.”_

 

The country known as Magvel behind Ephraim’s house becomes the first of many secrets they end up sharing.


	2. Magvel, pt. 2

Lyon’s only minorly scolded for running off, but his dad actually looks relieved when he lies and tells him they were just playing in the twin’s backyard and Fado must not have seen them when he looked because of the tall grass. He's never lied to his father before and it feels weird, but he keeps thinking of Ephraim's beaming face when he swore he'd never tell anyone else.

“He really needs to hire someone if he’s too busy handling those two alone,” Vigarde mutters, but Lyon can tell its more in amusement than anything else.

“Well, I’m happy, son. Fado says Ephraim didn’t have the easiest time at his last school, so I’m glad you like him.”

Lyon nods. “I do.”

“They seem like good kids. Eirika too.”

“Yes, dad.”

Ephraim is just like him, then.

He wonders why he doesn't fit in. He's certainly friendly enough. Maybe they just think he's  _weird._ Too friendly. Or too energetic. No, that can't be it. That's exactly the opposite of Lyon, all the things kids make fun of him  _not_ being.

But they're still outcasts, still...  _same._

Maybe it does make sense why they are friends after all.

* * *

 

It becomes apparent what both Fado and his father meant after hanging out with Ephraim a few times and noticing the scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees. He’s not sure if one of his teeth going missing is also part of it, but it’s unexpectedly gone and Ephraim doesn’t say anything about the tooth fairy giving him any money for it.

This time they're out in Magvel, not quite near the creek, but more of an open clearing in the trees. Eirika is drawing with crayons in a book she likes carrying around and Ephraim is bouncing around twice as energetic as normal.

“Hey, wanna play fight?”

Ephraim asks him this unexpectedly, borderline innocuously.

Behind him, Eirika drops her crayon. She pantomimes saying no, and Lyon’s not sure why he says yes instead. Maybe because he’s got a good half a foot on the scrawny kid asking him, maybe it’s because being around Ephraim makes him feel like maybe he could do anything, but next thing he knows he’s face down in the dirt with his arm twisted behind his back.

Well, that’s not good. His shirt might be ruined now and he’s gonna have a hard time explaining that to his dad after saying they’d be over at Ephraim’s house. Inside. A place where dirt isn’t.

He hears Eirika’s voice above him.

“Let him up.”

Ephraim immediately lets go and rolls off him, onto the ground beside him.

“Did you even try?” He asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “Or did you go easy on me because I’m younger?”

“I guess I’m just not a fighter,” Lyon sighs, dusting the dirt and leaves off his shirt. “I didn’t really like that.”

“You don’t like knowing how to fight?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Why not?” Curiosity tinges his voice and Ephraim gives him the same look he always does when Lyon chooses something different, as though any other option didn’t exist until presented to him by someone else.

“I guess because I’d rather not be in them. I’m bigger than you but I’m small for my age, actually.”

“You can still win if you practice real hard though! Some superheroes aren’t big at all and still can defeat bad guys.”

“You think so?”

They’re both still sitting on the ground, side by side. Ephraim bumps his shoulder with his own and gives him a radiant, gap-toothed grin.

“Yeah, I think you could do anything Lyon. You’re so smart. Smarter than I’ll ever be, probably.”

Eirika snorts from where she’s coloring.

“That’s not true. I’m just older.”

“Nah, I just know,” Ephraim tells him, leaning on his side. It must be because of having a twin but the younger boy isn’t shy when it comes to affection, always grabbing his hand or leaning on him or Eirika if she’s around. Lyon still isn't used to his space being so casually invaded.

“I can’t even remember all the letters still. Eirika already can so she just tells me what something says.”

Lyon sighs. “That you just need to practice, like you just told me with fighting.”

“But reading is _boooooooring,”_ he sighs, flopping over and into Lyon’s lap. “That’s why I decree there’s no reading in Magvel! No books ever again!”

“None?”

“None.”

“None _at all?”_

“Okay maybe the ones with pictures,” Ephraim replies with a grin, before poking Lyon in the face. “Ew, I can see up your nose.”

“Then move so you can’t,” he replies, slightly offended. It isn’t like he’s got boogers hanging from his nose or anything. And even if he did, Ephraim is really one to talk getting even more dirt on his clothes.

“I guess picture books are a start.”

"Yeah. Maybe you can teach me instead."

The thought of reading books with the other boy makes Lyon probably happier than he should be.

* * *

 

It happens one innocuous day.

They're in Magvel with Eirika, because lately Eirika always joins them if she's not at piano lessons, running around. Playing, normal not-dangerous stuff when It happens.

Lyon knows he's never been the healthiest child. He gets sick easily, has always been pale, bird-boned. Fragile. The opposite of Ephraim, who runs like nothing scares him and gets up after skinning his knees when he falls triumphantly. Ephraim, who falls out of the trees he climbs and dusts himself off like nothing happened. Ephraim, who tells him about how he punched a kid in his class because he said something about Eirika he won't repeat but didn't like and then had to go to the principal's office after they fought, as he assures Lyon he's fine and that the other kid looked worse.

But when Lyon skins his knees from falling down trying to catch up to the twins, they bleed and bleed and bleed. So much blood. Enough the dirt on them is completely covered and yet, they’re still going.

Eirika immediately realizes something isn't right and runs to find her father, even though Lyon weakly protests that it means they're breaking their promise to each other to never tell anyone else about Magvel.

Ephraim stays, holding his hand.

“I’ll fix it,” he promises, turquoise eyes watery. His nose is running and Lyon can see the tracks the fluids make through the dirt on his face like little rivers, tributaries. Just like their little creek in Magvel. It’s the only time he’s ever seen Ephraim cry, and it's not even because he was hurt. It's because Lyon was, and he doesn’t understand how to make his friend better.

“I’ll fix you back to normal Lyon. Please. I’ll bring you all my Superman band-aids. We’ll play inside from now on so you never get hurt, just—”

Lyon looks down at all the red.

It’s strange. Strange how it paints his clothes and plops on the ground, macabre in a way a child shouldn’t know. It’s on their entwined fingers, his blood. Crusted under Ephraim’s nails and already beginning to flake off as it’s still running down his knees. Not like the little rivers of Ephraim’s tears, more like sluggish waves of red paint.

“It’s okay Ephraim. Look,” Lyon finally tells him, snapping as the other boy sobs. Ephraim’s watery eyes meet his at his tone, as more tears burst forth. He tries to go back to his normal voice instead of panicking himself, but he finds he’s not panicked at all. His normal panic has been replaced with some kind of clarity that everything is okay and everything is as it should be.

That's maybe the first time he realizes he's okay with death.

“I’m not scared.”

“A—ar—aren’t y—you?”

Lyon shakes his head as Ephraim sniffles.

“You’re here. I can't be afraid. We’re Magvel lions, remember.”

“Y—yeah. Lions.”

Lyon holds his hands, surprised he’s the one having to comfort someone as his knees continue to bleed out, but it feels good. Not the bleeding, that doesn't feel great. Its weird and kind sticky. It's getting all over the place and he feels dizzy looking at all of it. No, knowing Ephraim needs him now and Lyon needs him too, though, that feels… _special._

And then Eirika ruins everything.

Well, not really.

But _sort of._

She runs up as they're still holding hands, in tears, her father right behind her. Fado is out of breath but he still picks Lyon up like he weighs nothing, breaking the hold he has on Ephraim's hand. He carries him back to their house where he sets him down on the couch and then everything gets kind of fuzzy and dreamlike from there for Lyon, kind of like falling alseep but not quite.

 

That’s the day their dads find out about Magvel.


	3. Pinkie Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a modern AU Formortiis would definitely be mental illness issues and teen angst. I don't make the rules here, sorry.
> 
> They'll be older next chapter, promise.

 

Hemophilia, they tell him once he’s in the hospital stabilized.

_The royal disease._

His doctors try to explain it to the best of their ability and Lyon is a bright boy at nine years old, but even he only knows so much about anatomy, about how bodies work. Not everything they tell him about what is wrong with him, with his body, makes sense. His case isn’t severe but its moderate enough he’ll need to have factor injected into his blood the rest of his life, especially after anything strenuous that could cause spontaneous bleeds.

Whatever that means.

His dad is nodding his head as the doctors speak, so that’s a good thing. He looks less distressed the more they tell him, so it must not be all that bad.

They continue speaking until it’s interrupted by Ephraim, Eirika and Fado entering his room. They have different clothes on than they did earlier in the day and Ephraim’s scrubbed clean of all the blood, all the dirt he normally has on him, but Lyon can still see little flecks of reddish-brown under his blunt nails when he reaches out to grab Lyon’s hand.

Fado catches his hand quickly, shaking his head.

“Let him rest, son.”

He lifts Ephraim gently into one of the hospital chairs as Eirika hops in the other, leaning by the door trying to not get in the way as the nurse who led them in checks Lyon’s vitals. His dad and the doctor are still in the corner of the room, now speaking in hushed voices, as she presses cool fingers against his wrist.

“Well, you seem to be quite liked, having visitors so soon!” The nurse exclaims cheerfully. “You’re a brave boy, Lyon.”

Ephraim pipes up from his chair “He’s so brave, Miss Lady. He didn't cry once!”

“And what darling friends you have,” she adds as she takes his temperature, then seems to be satisfied after checking the tubes in his arm haven’t moved. “Be careful moving that arm, okay? Apart from that, your friends are fine to see you for a bit.”

“Is he going to die?” Ephraim asks, eyes wide as the nurse stops in the doorway.

 _“Ephraim,”_ Fado mumbles. “What did I say about—”

“I’m not going to die,” Lyon replies, just as the nurse says “he’s not going to die, honey.”

“Ok, good.”

"I'm just sick," Lyon adds and Ephraim seems satisfied by this explanation, turning back to him. Neither of them realize the severity of the situation, as Lyon smiles sleepily at his best friend by his side. Ephraim swims out of focus, a blue-green blur as his eyes feel heavy. He's saying something but it sounds underwater, garbled and undecipherable.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Lyon says dreamily, before drifting off again.

(He later finds out its because of a defective X chromosome, that if he had been born a girl he would have had two and the normal one would have made up for the deficit. Instead, he has one. One stupid, messed up X chromosome one of the only things left behind from his mom that caused the deficiency in factor VIII in his blood. Blood is made up of so much stuff, he realizes, but that's the stuff that the doctors say makes it stop bleeding. His doctors are bit baffled why it wasn’t caught earlier, so is his dad. But Lyon knows exactly why.

He knows because he never really was an adventurous boy, until Ephraim came along.)

 

* * *

 

The one upside to everything, Lyon is able to convince his dad to drop him out of public school and get homeschooled after he's discharged form the hospital.

“Are you sure, son?”

Vigarde sets down his knife and fork as he looks at his son across the table.

Lyon stops chewing on a piece of meat when he realizes his dad’s eyes are still on him, fiddles with the patient wristband still attached to his wrist. His dad surprised him by barbecuing steak and making all the fixings for dinner as soon as he was discharged. Said Lyon needed to eat extra well after the slop they served him while slapping him on the back hard enough to wind him, so they piled into his truck to the supermarket straight out of the hospital.

“You won’t miss your friends?”

“What friends?” he replies, spearing his steak on his fork a little more violently than necessary. “Everyone already thinks I’m a freak.”

“You have friends—”

He trails off as Lyon stares at him blankly.

“Ephraim and Eirika are three grades below me, dad. We don’t even have recess together. It’s easier for us to treat if I just stay here.”

“There are things you learn in school other than just knowledge.”

“Like how awful kids are?”

“Okay, okay. I get it. But we all go through a rough patch in school. I know I did. It won’t be like that forever, I promise.”

Something nasty stirs inside of him, ready to lash out at his dad, at everyone for all the things that have happened to him. From being taunted because his mom was gone, to his hair and being teased he looked like a girl. To being called a crybaby because he didn’t understand what happened the first time he had a panic attack. Something dark and twisted he doesn’t understand but makes him feel powerful in ways he usually is not.

It’s not the same as being around Ephraim. No, that’s joy that makes him feel like he can do anything. This is something darker, angrier.

**_Did ͞yo̷u ̕h̷a͘v͘e̡ ͏a l҉if͟e-th̸rea͞te͟n҉i͏ng dis͢ease͡,̨ dad?͏ E̷a҉s͢y f̢ơr ҉you t̢o ̵say, ͡m̕y ͜ro̶u̕gh p̨a͢tc͢h҉ is̕ going to͝ b͘e̕ ̷f̨o͜reve͠r.͢_ **

He takes a bite of his steak instead, but it tastes like bile. Quickly washes it down with a gulp of water, as he tries not to choke and his dad continues to give him a thoughtful look. He itches the band-aid where his IV was _gently_ so it won't bruise more and feels like he came back from the hospital  _different._

“We should ask your therapist first if she thinks this is a good idea. This might set you back.”

“I’ve never done bad in school” Lyon mumbles, pushing the rest of his dinner around his plate, no longer hungry. He lets his hair fall into a lilac curtain around his face as he bows his head and pushes his peas into a divot made in his mashed potatoes before smashing them together.

“That’s true.”

His dad frowns as he looks at the mess on Lyon’s plate. “Don’t do that to your dinner. You need to eat to get better.”

“Yes, dad.”

Lyon slowly lifts a spoonful to his mouth and Vigarde sighs, finally relenting.

“Okay. Now’s as good of a time as any, I suppose. But if your grades go down—”

Lyon quickly looks up from his ruined dinner to see his dad smiling at him.

“I’m going back to school, Got it.”

* * *

 

Ephraim is carrying a box of Legos almost half the size of himself when he arrives after they've finished dinner and the dishes, a get-well present for Lyon.

“We thought you’d like something to play with while you got better,” he says by way of explanation, carrying the box up to Lyon’s room. “But I picked them out. See, look—” he points to the picture on the front. “A castle. Since we can’t be in one outside, we’ll make one inside. Cool, huh?”

“They’re perfect,” Lyon agrees as he lets Ephraim do the honors, ripping into the box like its Christmas. His eyes are wide as he dumps out all of the pieces onto the carpet.

“Wow, there’s so many! Like a million of them!”

Lyon makes a noncommittal noise as he sorts through the pile for the diagrams. He doesn't have the heart to tell Ephraim the box says 500 pieces.

“This is the coolest!”

“Yeah, thank you for it.”

Ephraim bobs his head as he continues to work on god knows what, and Lyon begins to sort pieces into neat little groups so he can build the castle per the box’s directions. They work on things quietly for a while and Lyon can tell the younger boy is concentrating because his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and he has a little crease between his eyebrows, as he fits the pieces of plastic together surprisingly well for as quickly as he is going.

“Hey, so—” he begins, trailing off as he sets down his legos and sits up a little more straightly, looking at Ephraim. “You know how I’m sick, right?”

He nods his head.

“Well, I’m going to be inside a lot more now. We won’t get to play outside and I’m—I’m not going to be able to walk with you to school anymore.”

“Ok,” the younger boy replies nonchalantly, reaching for his legos again.

“I’m not going to be at school at all, actually,” Lyon adds.

“So when will we get to hang out?” Ephraim asks, laying on the carpet and kicking his legs in the air. The blue lights on his sneakers flash as his toes hit the carpet, then back up in the air. Over and over, Lyon’s pretty sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it at this point.

“Whenever you want.”

“But inside like this?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t going to miss it?” Ephraim asks, tilting his head.  A lock of messy teal hair falls into his eyes he brushes back. His hair is growing out, his refusal to cut it because he likes how long Lyon’s is temporarily winning the battle against his dad taking him to get a haircut.

“No.”

“Is it because you’re really sick? You aren't actually going to die, right?”

“No,” Lyon replies for what feels like the millionth time. “But thanks for checking.”

“You think we’ll ever be able to go back to Magvel?” Ephraim asks, as he haphazardly adds more legos to the castle they’re building. Or rather he is.

“Probably not for a while, at least.”

“Will you miss it?”

Lyon pauses. 

Of course he enjoyed being out there. The creek and the woods, the leaves and the rocks. The smile on Ephraim's face as they searched for bugs and bird feathers and all sorts of things. He'll miss the fresh air and the beauty of it, the sun filtering through the trees hiding them from everyone else like they really were in a world of their own.

“Not if you still come visit.”

“Will you show me all the inside stuff you like to do?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I’ll come visit every day,” Ephraim swears, a twinkle in his eye as he sets down his legos and reaches over to hold out his crooked pinkie finger between them. “Pinkie promise.”

Lyon takes his finger, entwining them both.

“Pinkie promise.”

* * *

 

It’s the same nightmare every time.

He knows it by heart now because he’s told his dad, his therapist and even Ephraim and Eirika about it in detail enough times. The one where the earth rumbles and shakes, ground cracking and dividing. Fissures open to a dark place and suck their quaint little neighborhood inside. The houses on their block topple like cards, and Lyon is powerless to save the people around him.

He watches numbly as they slip through the cracks, the nice little neighbors on the block screaming as they fall into the never-ending abyss below.

His father is always the first, too stubborn to run away. He falls immediately, calling for Lyon as he tumbles downward. Next, it’s Fado, valiantly leading his son and daughter out of the danger of their crumbling house. He sometimes makes it down the street, but rarely further.

**_F̡e̴ar m̨e p͢uny ̵hu̴mans ̧f͜o͡r ̵I wi̷l̕l҉ u͏nle͜as͟h͜ ̕my͟ ͟w̢r͠a̕t͜h o͢n ̶a͜ll͢ ̧that ̕you͜ ha͡ve͜ ̕b̸u͘ilt, ͞all tha҉t ͞yo͘u ̢l͝o̧v҉e̸_ **

And when he hears that voice, Lyon runs like he’ll never be able to run again. Grabs a shaking Ephraim by the wrist and practically drags him until they reach the end of the block that somehow always morphs into the woods behind his house, the trail of fallen leaves that leads to their sacred kingdom they can no longer be a part of anymore.

Eirika falls along the way, sucked into the ground as Lyon and Ephraim nearly fall in too. Ephraim hesitates for only a moment but adrenaline has Lyon by its clutches and he tugs the younger boy harder, screaming as they weave their way around the ruined landscape, not even their pretend kingdom able to save them.

The last is always Ephraim, who he has by the wrist, but Lyon's not strong enough to pull him up even though he tries and tries.

Ephraim realizes and lets go. He's smiling as he falls down, his turquoise eyes turning black as night.

**_Ha̢͡h̶̕͞a̢̛h̶͜a̕͢..҉̸..̨H͡a̴h̢͝͠a̷̧h҉͜ah̷a̸̡h̴a̧͢.̨͡.͠͞.͘͞.̡H͘A̕H̴̢͡A̡H̷͡A̴H̵AH̨͜A̢͝!̷̨_ **

 

“Lyon!”

He opens his eyes, gasping as Ephraim shakes him by his shoulders.

“Eph?”

“You were yelling in your sleep,” he tells him, turning down the comforter and sheets to get in his bed instead of going back to his sleeping bag on the floor. “Same thing?”

He asks quietly, bed creaking as he gets into it. It’s the first night he’s spent the night that Lyon’s actually had the nightmare while he was around.

“Yeah.”

“We’re not gonna die,” Ephraim replies, yawning so hard his jaw pops. He lies down, hugging himself to Lyons back, arms around his waist and his head between Lyon’s shoulder blades. Lyon is still trembling like a leaf after the whole nightmare thing waking him up. “I won’t let us. I’d never leave you or Eirika behind _ever_.”

He lets go after a while and rolls so they’re lying side by side.

“What if it’s not your choice?” Lyon asks, turning towards him. “What if you don’t have any choice?”

“I’ll just do the best I can then.”

_“But what if that isn’t enough?”_

“I’ll—” Ephraim stops mid-sentence. “Lyon," he asks quieter. "Are you still sad? Really sad like you get sometimes?”

“Y—yeah.”

“C’mere,” Ephraim tells him as he scoots forward, grabbing fistfuls of Lyon’s shirt until he’s manhandled him into a hug, Lyon’s head pillowed on his bony chest. “Sometimes Eirika needs hugs to go to sleep too. It's okay to be sad. But don't be scared, okay?”

Lyon nods his head in the dark and the panic slowly begins to creep out of him, the nightmare draining from him as he feels the slow thud of his friend’s heart beating in his chest and his arms around him tightly.

“The dreams, they feel so real. Everytime...”

“But it’s  _not_. I’ll protect you.”

That’s Ephraim’s favorite new thing to say. He’ll protect him. He’ll protect Eirika. He’ll protect his dad. Fado lets him watch way too many superhero shows, but right now it’s a nice thing for him to say. It’s comforting to pretend that sheer will could keep everything at bay, because he certainly could if that were the case.

Lyon falls asleep to his steady exhalations of breath, counting them as his own heart rate slows and his eyes finally close.


	4. Ladder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly have new inspiration to finish this and I'm not gonna let it go to waste, awwwwww yeahhhhhhhhhhhh~~ ♡

The first time Ephraim suggests it, Lyon laughs.

That is until one day he wakes up to his window being pelted with pebbles, the sound of them plinking against the glass making him rub the sleep from his eyes and go to the only window in his room. Dawn is just barely breaking, painting the sky in hues of blue and purple streaked with orange and earliest diurnal birds only barely beginning to chirp.

Opening his window he narrowly misses another pebble smacking him squarely in the face and peers down to see Ephraim standing on his lawn.

“Hey sleepyhead!” He calls. “You still stuck inside?”

“Mmmmhm.”

It’s been like this for two years now, the boy asking if he can go outside and Lyon dodges each time to the best of his ability, secretly terrified one day Ephraim will stop because he's bored.

“‘Kay,” Ephraim replies, then begins climbing up the tree, much to Lyon’s horror.

One hand then the other, he weaves his way through the branches until he’s eye-level. It’s not quite close enough for him to be able to get into his room, the gap too wide between them, but it's comfortable enough that they can talk without having to raise their voices anymore and Ephraim certainly looks pleased enough with himself over the accomplishment.

“Think your dad will let me ‘n’ Eirika over later?” He asks, finding decent footing and leaning towards the window, the branch swaying under his weight.

“Probably. I did my homework already for this week.”

“Me too! Besides, its Saturday. We can watch cartoons together or something.”

Lyon rolls his eyes.

“You know Eirika doesn’t like cartoons.”

“No but she likes  _you_ , dummy,” the younger boy replies with a toothy grin. “We both do. How about 8?”

“I’ll call when he says yes?”

“Cool," Ephraim replies, biting his thumb between his teeth. "Heh, I should probably get back in bed before dad wakes up.”

“You didn’t—” Lyon sighs, scrubbing his face with his hand as the boy just beams back at him even wider, showing every one of his missing teeth in full glory.

“Yep!”

Waving back, he nearly loses his balance, slipping from where he’s holding the tree with his other arm around it. Lyon’s heart skips and lodges itself in his throat as he imagines him falling to the ground, landing with the unmistakable sickening crunch of broken bones and red seeping out onto the grass everywhere, always red.

“Jesus, Eph. Be careful, okay? I can’t help you down.”

“Get a ladder then!” He hollers back at Lyon without even missing a beat, almost entirely down the tree as quick as he climbed it. Lyon wrings his hands until he sees Ephraim’s feet firmly on the ground, shooting him a dirty look as he runs off across the street without even hesitating.

If it means Ephraim not nearly breaking his neck to see him, maybe he just will.

 

* * *

 

His dad ends up waking up an hour after Ephraim is gone, shuffling into the kitchen as Lyon’s already at the table eating a bowl of the cereal and reading the TV guide to see what cartoons are on they’d all agree on. So far he's only come up with Justice League and even that slim to interest Eirika, who prefers reading far more.

“You’re up early,” Vigarde remarks, ruffling his hair gently and Lyon makes a noncommittal noise, not looking up from the paper.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, fine. All my blood still in me today.”

“That’s not why I was—”

His dad frowns, examining the coffeemaker. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to make waffles.” Emptying the coffee from the previous day out of the pot, he goes to the sink, filling it back up with water. “You still want them, kiddo?”

“I guess. Can Ephraim and Eirika come over too?”

“If Fado says so,” Vigarde chuckles. “I’ll make enough even Ephraim can’t eat through them all this time.”

“Not possible, dad.”

“You say that, but he’s a growing boy. You know, you should be eating that much too.”

Lyon has a retort on his tongue but it dies as Vigarde begins coughing, something rattling deep inside his lungs. Steadying both hands on the sink, he spits then wipes his mouth before turning around, but Lyon knows there was blood even if he hides it. The knowledge terrifies him because it’s happening more often these days, the coughing, and his dad won’t tell him why.

The sound of his chair scraping across the floor echoes in the kitchen as Lyon gets up, nervously making his way to his father’s side and he hastily turns around, flipping on the faucet so that the sink clears all but the smallest spray of pink droplets on the side as evidence.

“Don’t worry about the waffles, dad,” Lyon says, helping him to a chair and bringing him his coffee once its ready. “I can make them for us.”

Ephraim and Eirika end up coming over that day, but so does Fado, his face solemn as he wrangles Ephraim and Eirika into the living room with Lyon, then pulls up a chair at the table with Vigarde, the two talking in hushed tones and waffles are completely forgotten, the batter Lyon did his best to make unused as the twins pass him a greasy pancake breakfast meal from a fast-food joint he opens carefully, having already started eating theirs and its eerie how even Eirika isn't picking at her food and watching tv.

After breakfast Lyon keeps asking what’s going on, but even Ephraim tugging on his hands can’t get him to unclench his fists, white-knuckled and afraid, as a voice tells him his worst fears are slowly becoming true.

 

* * *

 

It’s many, many years later before they are able to go to Magvel again and it feels much smaller, less wonderous after everything that’s happened in their lives since.

They’re sixteen and fourteen, respectively, and Ephraim and Eirika have since started high school. Lyon’s classes have evened out to him being a junior, between all the independent study and taking care of the slow decline of his Vigarde’s health in the last few years and puberty has crept up on both the boys quickly, the horrors of Lyon’s body adjusting to the influx of hormones have replaced the horrors of going to the doctors for days at end while they run tests on either him or his father depending on the day and insurance coverage. Acne and hair springing up in random places on his body, his voice cracking in pitch before finally evening out to a deeper tone as he deals with nurses, doctors, hospice care and, more recently, bill collectors when his dad isn’t able to.

Ephraim still tugs him by the wrist to the rocks near the creek, but he’s far more careful with Lyon than he was as a child, patient as they make their way through the grass and leaves and the trip feels a lot quicker than it did when he was younger now that he’s taller and his own legs are longer and able to keep up now.

“Not quite what I remember, but it’s still pretty cool, yeah?” He asks, shooting Lyon a charming grin he’s had years to hone, the one Lyon has never been able to say no to, as he helps him up onto one of the flatter rocks, steadying him as he climbs up with a strong grip.  

“Yeah,” Lyon agrees, dusting off his hands on his jeans and finding himself sitting next to Ephraim, who has already sprawled out his lanky limbs across the granite, basking in the sun.

He still has a sharpened walking stick by his side and Lyon isn’t sure why, only that the likelihood of one of them getting hurt with it is probably far higher than it doing them any good, but old habits must die hard as Ephraim refused to not bringing it along with them.

“Being a kid was awesome.”

“Was it though?” Lyon asks, turning to look at Ephraim, who is still grinning. His teal hair glints in the sun as he reclines, shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of pale, freckled skin.

If puberty hit Lyon hard, it was certainly even less forgiving on Ephraim and all of his clothes are now ill-fitting as his body is still trying to decide whether it wants to keep the lanky physique of a runner or accommodate the muscle mass he’s gained from exercising regularly. He shot up like a weed almost overnight and even being two years older, Lyon has to now look up to meet his eyes, something he isn’t used to.

“Parts of it were pretty cool,” Ephraim amends, eyes closed.

Lyon snorts when Ephraim doesn’t elaborate.

“You didn’t think so? Not even before…” he trails off, looking at Lyon. “I just meant when we hung out all the time here as kids, I wasn’t thinking when I said—"

“It’s okay,” Lyon replies quickly. “I know you didn’t mean—"

“I’d never. Just ran my mouth again without thinking,” Ephraim replies wryly.

“Happens to even the best of us,” Lyon answers but the intense look in Ephraim’s eyes still hasn’t left, the way he’s still looking at him, expression inscrutable. A shiver runs down his spine as a beat passes, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he says, then leans over and kisses him quickly, just the briefest brush of lips on his. Lyon barely has time to process what happened before Ephraim has already moved, closing his eyes and resting back on his arms. An inarticulate noise makes its way out his mouth as Lyon processes what just happened, his jaw dropping again.

Ephraim kissed him.

_He kissed him._

Lyon’s brain goes into a panic, his heart racing in his chest and Ephraim opens his eyes again, looking up at him.

“Was it that weird?” He asks, concern written across his face. Cheeks flushed, his normally bright eyes seem even more so, as Lyon tries his best to make eye contact and fails multiple times before he finally swallows, clearing his throat.

“A little. You startled me.”

“Oh. Was that.... your first?”

Lyon nods his head.

“Yeah, mine too,” he replies. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

Ephraim laughs breezily, waving a hand in the air, and Lyon wonders how he can be so nonchalant still sitting next to him before nudging his shoulder.

“Just that, like, it wasn’t some random person I’m going to forget one day. It was you.”

Lyon huffs, spreading out his hands against the granite and scraping them against the rough surface as he replies, back and forth over the coarse rocks. “If that’s the case, you could have told me.”

“I didn’t really—”

“—think about it,” Lyon finishes and Ephraim nods as though its explanation enough so he doesn’t press him further.

“It’s fine. I’m happy it was someone I won’t forget either.”

“You just looked so sad and I thought it might make you happy.”

“It did,” he reassures him even though he’s even more of a mess of emotions now, and Ephraim gives him a rare, sheepish smile before it’s gone and he’s back to staring off at a point in the distance. They end up talking about nothing in particular, as the minutes wane and the air becomes crisper and Lyon inhales a deep breath, taking in everything, still trying to clear his head before realizing his palms are now raw and stinging.

He turns them over. The skin hasn’t broken, but they’re now an angry shade of pink and itch.

If Ephraim notices he doesn't say anything, spending the rest of the afternoon throwing small pebbles into the creek as Lyon’s lips tingle and he keeps giving him worried looks.

 

* * *

 

They sneak back in through his bedroom window, even though Lyon’s pretty sure his father is in no position to care considering he's fast asleep in a recliner.

It’s quaint in a nostalgic way, reminding him of days where Ephraim would throw pebbles at his window until he opened it, before climbing up the tree and through the window, into his room. Now there’s a ladder and though Ephraim doesn’t have to use it, he enjoys the freedom of being able to come and go into Lyon’s room as he pleases, like it’s a secret they share not having to politely converse with the hospice nurses whose names Ephraim can never remember as he follows behind Lyon on the ladder. Once they reach the top he climbs through the window and stands next to it.

He doesn’t awkwardly shuffle his feet or anything else Lyon does when he’s nervous and perhaps its because he isn’t, he is Ephraim after all. He just turns to him, hands reaching out for Lyon’s shoulders then dropping before they make contact.

“Are we cool?” He asks and it hangs heavy in the air as Lyon weighs his replies with as much care as he can on the fly and Ephraim scratches the back of his neck but doesn't back down.

“Did I get you that flustered?” Lyon finally deadpans at least two moments too late to be funny, still hoping it will ease the tension.

Ephraim lets out a short bark of laughter, clearly surprised. 

“You did. You totally did.”

After they've both chuckled over it, this time Lyon reaches for him, embracing him tightly before the other boy's arms come up to wrap around him protectively.

"I don't want something stupid to ever be the reason I lose you," Ephraim tells him more seriously, whispering in his hair and it takes all of Lyon's willpower not to begin crying as he thinks of all the ways, his brain giving him no shortage of scenarios where they aren't here together in this room and it makes him hold on to him tighter.

"You too though," Lyon replies and Ephraim kisses the top of his head, the same way he’s seen him do to Eirika time and time again and whatever stiffness in his limbs dissipates, as he realizes the familiarity in Ephraim's touch hasn't changed and he's still safe.

"I'll try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha my only slow burn fanfic ever ends up being my favorite fire emblem ship, go figure  
> //kms

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, I've been working slowly on this between writing _[We Stand Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662629/chapters/33874221)_ because I really wanted to give this more serious fic the attention that it deserves and am kind of shocked at the lack of modern AU's in the Fire Emblem tag.
> 
> Anyway, hit me up about feh builds or teams or chatting about fire emblem in general @ [otomesruinedmylife](http://otomesruinedmylife.tumblr.com)! i've played sacred stones and am playing birthright. i'm always on feh and my summoner ID is: 0836101998 if you want help from my lovely husband Ephraim :)


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